#bluish

rip my dividers , didn't use them so numbers could fit!

Get the full bundle here!

I bought a blue knife. I couldn't help myself. It did not change my life. It cut the same as any other knife, though blue, which for a while felt new, and I could define myself, if I needed to, as a person who chose a blue knife, who lived with a blue knife, who cut quite a figure with her blue knife, though it was ordinary in every way beyond its hue. I have a drawerful of knives like other knives, and some of them cut surprisingly well, straight through. But know me not by my blood but by my blue. Have you seen, my true ally, the inside of an ambulance? It is not dim as you might think. Not pink. Not thin. It is bright white as wedding cake, as school glue. Everything shows. Your newish tattoo. Your lips, that gruesome pool-cue- chalk blue. The spinning light on top of the ambulance is blue, the color of a bruise. Inside, Diane, you suffer and your suffering is you.

Early morning travel

Seashades | Paintings by Frederick Waugh (1861-1940). “The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.” — Christopher Paolini

September 2024

Cissus amazonica

Bluish, Mess I On your own, 2018